When worlds collide
by lovelynoise
Summary: Glee/Skins. Freddie's left the UK behind him, and starts at a new school in the US where a certain teacher persuades him into joining the Glee club. Rated T for Freddie's bad mouth.
1. Chapter 1

"Glee club?" Freddie looked at Mr. Schuester.

"You're going to love it!" the Spanish teacher said. "The team spirit is unbelievable, you'll fit right in."

"I don't sing", Freddie said. "And I don't do clubs."

"Come on!" Mr. Schuester nagged. "Just give it a chance. You won't regret it."

Freddie shrugged. "Fine. One chance."

Mr. Schuester lit up like a kid on crack.

"Great! We rehearse in the auditorium after school."

Freddie walked out of the room without saying anything. He was so going to regret this.

"No fucking way." Freddie looked at the others with disbelief. "Are you shitting me?"

"Language, Freddie", Mr. Schuester said.

"I can take his solo, Mr. Schue." A short hyperventilating brunette stood up. She was wearing a reindeer jumper.

"I really think Freddie should get the honour, Rachel", the teacher said.

"I'm not singing that song", Freddie argued.

"I thought you'd like it."

"Seriously?" Freddie looked at him.

"Well, I thought, since he's from England and so are you …"

Freddie stared at the teacher.

"That's kinda racist, Mr. Schue", an Asian goth girl said.

"I guess I jumped to conclusions. Well, what do you wanna sing then?"

These people just didn't get it. "I. Don't. Sing."

Mr Schuester smiled and looked at the others.

"Don't worry, he'll come around. Puck, why don't you show him how it's done?"

Some older guy with a mohawk got up on the floor and picked up a guitar. A _mohawk_. But judging by the look of the others, this crowd wasn't exactly popular. Or normal.

"You're a teacher or something?"

"I'm a student", Puck said with a glare.

"No fucking way you're 18."

"I'm 16", Puck said and took a step closer.

"Right", Freddie said. "Whatever you've been taking, I want some."

Mr. Schue stepped in between them. "Enough talking. Puck, your turn."

"So, you play football?" a freakishly tall guy asked him when the Mohawk started singing.

"Not really."

"Too bad. We could really use some fresh blood on the field", the guy sighed. "I'm Finn, by the way."

"You play anything else?" a blond guy with a Bieber haircut wanted to know.

"I don't really do sports", Freddie answered. "I skate."

A tan hand turned up in front of his eyes.

"Hi. I'm Santana", a black haired girl said with a smile. Freddie noticed her cheerleading uniform.

"And I'm Brittany", the blonde next to her filled in. "You're hot when you talk."

"Um", Freddie said with a confused smile. "Thanks?"

"We should hang out sometime", Santana said.

"Totally", Brittany continued.

"Don't expect any conversation, though", the hyper – Rachel – interrupted.

"I wish we could say the same about you, midget", Santana said.

"Girls", Mr. Schue said. "Fill in on the chorus instead."

That Puck guy was still singing. And Mr. Schue expected Freddie to do the same. Could this get _any _worse?

**Good or bad idea for a story? Let me know in the reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

Yes. Yes, it could. Get worse, that is. As he finally regained freedom and got to get out of that room (which in too many ways reminded him of a stoned version of his sister) something cold and sticky sweet rained down on his face.

"What the fuck?" he burst out and tried to get the shit out of his eyes. As his eyesight returned he got to see half of the American football team with empty slushie cups in the hands. "What _the hell _is your problem, shit brains?"

"Trying to sound badass, pretty boy?" a black footballer said. "Then you probably should stop talking like the queen."

For a short moment Freddie wished that Cook had been there so they'd could have beaten the shit out of these twats. But alone he knew he wouldn't stand a chance.

"Welcome to McKinley High, loser!" some guy laughed and emptied the last of the slushies on him before they left him.

Freddie closed his eyes and tried to convince himself that it was a stupid idea to start a fight on the first day. He needed a smoke.

"Here", a short guy said and handed him a checked napkin.

"Is that how you greet everyone to this shit place, or am I just lucky?" Freddie said before he took the napkin and wiped his face off.

"Nah, you're getting special treatment for being in the Glee Club", the boy said. "Though that gorgeous accent of yours might have helped as well. I'm Kurt, by the way." He offered him his hand.

"Really?" Freddie said and shook it. "Well, in that case, it was nice meeting you, and goodbye."

"Wait, what?" Kurt said.

Freddie walked away as he answered. "I quit."


	3. Chapter 3

Freddie picked his skateboard out of his locker (which smelled of something he didn't want to know what is was) and ignored all the homework he'd already gotten. When he got outside of the school he didn't look where he went. He didn't want to go "home" – it wasn't his home, after all. It was just a house where he happened to be stuck for the next year. All he wanted to do was to go back to England, to Cook, to JJ, to school, to the parties … to Effie. But they were all against him. After the assault … everyone seemed to think they were better off separated. And therefore he was stuck here, in the middle of nowhere.

He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't really care either. He just wanted to get as far away from everything as possible. He needed something to get his mind off things – anything. Weed, alcohol, just something that would make him forget all this shit.

After circling the town for a couple of hours he realized that would be easier said than done. Even the centre was completely dead and empty. He realized that he had to get it some other way. Through someone who had connections. And Freddie knew just the guy he had to ask. Tomorrow, he'd go back to Glee practice, just once more.


	4. Chapter 4

The teacher welcomed him back with open arms. Freddie shrugged away and sat down on a chair to escape.

"I'm so glad you decided to join us, Freddie", Schuester said. That guy's hair was ridiculous it looked as if though he'd gotten a perm or something. Judging by everything else, he just might have.

"Well, since Freddie wasn't too keen on the songs that I'd chosen yesterday, I was thinking, maybe you could share what kind of music you listen to over the pond?" He smiled as if he'd said something funny.

Freddie shrugged. "Dunno. Rage Against the Machine's good."

The teacher made a face. "Maybe not the most melodious group. But we could give it a try if you'd want."

Freddie shrugged again. "I told you yesterday. I don' sing."

Shuester smiled that creepy smile once more. "Well, I almost thought you were going to say that, so we've prepared a little something … a little bird told me you like the Beach Boys, is that right?"

Freddie raised his eyebrows. "… yes? How'd you know?"

The pink faced boy who'd handed him the handkerchief the day before raised his hand. "Guilty", he said. "Found it online."

Greeeeeeat. He'd gotten a stalker.

"Calm down, Kurt", a black haired guy sitting next to him said. "I think you're scaring him." He smiled at Freddie. "I'm Blaine, by the way. We didn't get the chance to meet yesterday."

"Hi. Freddie", he said, slightly skeptical. What were those guys wearing? They looked like Barbie Ken: Prep School or something.

"Well, anyway", Schuester interrupted. "We just wanted you to feel welcome. Okay, guys, hit it!"

Some guys he'd not even seen getting in starting playing the keyboard, and then hell broke loose. The guys the freakishly tall one, the one with the dead squirrel on his head, the Bieber wannabe, the Ken Dolls and some Asian started harmonizing while a kid in a wheel chair sang the lyrics.

"If everybody had an ocean/ Across the U. S. A./ Then everybody'd be surfin Like Californi-a"

Not only were they singing, but they were dancing as well. One of the Ken Dolls (the non-stalker one, Blaine) and the Asian was sort of good. And then the girls joined in. The girl who'd worn a reindeer jumper the day before, was wearing white stockings and what looked like a table cloth. She cut in on the verse, in some sort of opera/musical voice that massacred the song completely.

" You'd seen 'em wearing their baggies/ Huarache sandals too/ A bushy bushy blonde hairdo/ Surfin' U. S. A."

She tried to get Freddie up on the floor, but there was no way she was hot enough for that. Not even Effie would've been hot enough to pull something like that off. He tried to think of Effie then, to tune the horrible near-death-experience (yes, he'd almost been beaten to death, and _yes, _this was just as bad) out. It wasn't working very well.

When the song was over, he was thinking of a way to go deaf for all eternity, or to lobotomize himself, so he wouldn't have to remember ... whatever this had been.

"Well", the annoying table cloth asked. "What did you think?"

Freddie forced on something similar to a smile. "Don' have any words." They started cheering and laughing. Were they really that gullible? He didn't care. "Yeah, so. We done for today? Great. Cheers." He got up from his chair, but Schuester shook his head.

"Oh, no, we've got plenty more prepared. You sit down and enjoy!"

Enjoy his slow death, that was. Most kids sat down as well, only two girls stayed, dressed in cheerleading uniforms. At least they looked good.

"Well East coast girls are hip/ I really dig those styles they wear/ And the Southern girls with the way they talk/ They knock me out when I'm down there", the black haired cheerleader started singing, and then the blonde joined in:

"The Mid-West farmer's daughters really make you feel alright/ And the Northern girls with the way they kiss/ They keep their boyfriends warm at night"

So … they were lesbians? Typical. The only decent looking girls, and they wouldn't go for him. He'd seen Cook's failing attempts with Naomi to even give it a try.

"So … what do you do for actual fun around here?" Freddie asked in a low voice to the 16-going-on-30-year-old guy with the misshaped Mohawk.


End file.
